


Unexpected Turbulence

by potatoeatingintensifies



Category: Fine Forecasts, Gomens Party Verse, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Original Work
Genre: (cant believe there wasnt a tag for this), An Angel and a Demon walk into a bar, Azmodeus has a Vulva, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Dom/sub Undertones, Fine Forecasts AU, Fingering, Mention of Azmodeus/Doeley, Multi, Nepeniel has a Vulva, No Refractory Period, No binaries in this household, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Reverse Aziraphale - Freeform, and breasts, and then a Penis, male-presenting Azmodeus, male-presenting Nepeniel, pining for third party, pronoun changes, sexual tension the movie (TM), some plot but mostly character exploration through porn, thigh riding, thigh worship, vague references to historical dates and the thirty year war, watch me slide my OC into this AU like the Beatles into Doeley's DMs, which is Reverse Crowley and Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoeatingintensifies/pseuds/potatoeatingintensifies
Summary: THIS WORK IS PART OF @GOOSETOOTHS ONGOING REVERSE AU, FINE FORECASTS.Nepeniel did not expect to meet a demon in a dinghy tavern in mid-1600's germany.Azmodeus did not expect to have an exasperated, smart-mouthed angel all up in his business.Sometimes, that's just how it is on this bitch of an earth.
Relationships: Azmodeus/Nepeniel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Unexpected Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goosewriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goosewriting/gifts).



> Wanted to practice some smut writing with an OC. Also wanted to write an ode to Azmodeus' thighs. My single braincell managed to fuse the two and Sev generously blessed the union.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

In retrospect, Nepeniel considered, he wouldn't have gotten into this mess if not for the weird weather. 

It had been off since february, so for about two months now - flipping from rain to sunshine, hail to heat waves so quickly it was starting to seem ludicrous. In fact, it was so odd he'd considered going back to headquarters to ask if he'd missed a memo. Stopping him, however, were two things: firstly, he knew the angel responsible for sending all the memos personally, and while Gabriel may have been a major pain in the arse, he was also incredibly meticulous in his work. 

The other thing: he really wasn't in the mood for the other angels' prickly comments. ("Oh, you didn't get the memo? Well, I suppose you were busy with… oh, what is it you do again?") Especially after his current favorite bar had just burned down. One unlucky lightning strike after an entirely too hot and dry day, and the place had gone up like so much timber. The patrons had quenched the fire quick enough - as the regular crowd consisted mostly of farmers, builders and the like, they were adept at working together and finding quick solutions - but the damage had been done, the night ruined. Some went home, grumbling about enough excitement for the day, others made their way to one of the bustling city's many other taverns. 

Nepeniel tagged along with a small group of carpenters, only grimacing slightly when they decided to enter "Zum wilden Stier". The inn was a notorious haunt for the soldiers and mercenaries hired for the latest unnecessary war, and known for the frequency and brutality of its bar fights. Not that Nepeniel had cause to be worried - if he did not wish to be noticed, he never was, even though his vaguely east asian features and well-fitted clothes should have made him stand out like a sore thumb in mid-1600's rural Germany. 

His companions quickly picked a table, chattering amicably, but Nepeniel found himself frozen in the doorway, their voices fading to meaningless background noise. He was not particularly adept at sensing celestial energies, but even he recognized the aura of brimstone and suffering that emanated from one of the barstools - or rather, from the person sitting on it. What was a demon doing  _ here? _

Said demon seemed to be wondering the same about him, as his icy blue eyes locked onto Nepeniel with unspoken challenge. Nepeniel tried to guess his intentions - his pose was relaxed, but the underlying tension in his muscles betrayed his alertness. Posing as one of the soldiers, then? He certainly looked like he could be a wrath demon, with the tattoos peeking out from his shirtsleeves and collar, and the stocky, well-muscled figure half-hidden beneath. It would also explain what he was doing here - picking a fight here would be so easy he wouldn't even need a miracle to get people riled up.

Yet there was something about the spread of his thighs on the rickety wooden stool, about the mesmerizing slope his steel-gray hair followed before disappearing into a tightly woven fishbraid, that made Nepeniel wonder if he might just be a lust demon instead…

_ Nonsense _ , Nepeniel thought, catching himself. No point for a lust demon to present male in a pub full of agressively heterosexual men. His imagination must be running away with him again - and imagination was a dangerous thing for an angel to have. His corporation must be a lot more wound up than he'd realized - when had he last bedded someone, again? 

_1594,_ Nepeniel realized. Almost 40 years ago. That must be it, then. His job of rewarding honest, hard workers for their diligence often made it very easy to combine business and pleasure, as he'd discovered several thousand years ago, but in the current time and place he occupied people were once again returning to silly ideas of "maintaining purity" and the like, so he'd not had a chance to indulge in this kind of reward for a while. He made a mental note to take his business to more liberated places as soon as possible, and scowled at the too attractive demon.

Said demon only raised an eyebrow with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and pointedly turned back to the book he had lying open on the countertop. Nepeniel stared in disbelief. It was protocol for angels and demons to fight (or at least, thwart) each other when a chance meeting on neutral ground occurred, yet this demon straight-up was  _ ignoring _ him. What in damnation was this guy's deal? By all means, Nepeniel should- 

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

He blinked, considering that this demon may be smarter than he looked. Which one out of the two of them picked the inevitable fight was crucial, especially in a place like this, where personal arguments turned into bar fights in the blink of an eye - the demon was probably  _ counting _ on Nepeniel getting offended and throwing the first punch. It didn't even matter if the punch was literal or metaphorical. Provoking an actual angel into starting a tavern brawl would get the bastard promoted anyway, while the angel in question… 

...well. Heaven, as a general vague construct and place of Her residence, was merciful. The angels residing in it, as Nepeniel knew all too well, were usually not.

So he decided to ignore the demon as well. He'd come over for his fight sooner or later, and if he didn't - well, what could he possibly tell his superiors to ruin Nepeniel's good name? That he  _ hadn't _ picked an unnecessary fight?

Nepeniel joined his friends, slipping into the little group as if he'd never left, and let the cheerful chatter wash over him. It calmed him, as it always did - say what you will about humans, but their enthusiasm and drive were unparalleled, even (or especially) by the angels themselves. He may have never fallen in love, and probably never would, but Nepeniel loved humanity as fiercely as he loved God herself. 

At least, until he lost a game of cards some hours later, and had to pay for the next round of drinks. "Ruthless cutthroats, the lot of you," he grumbled good-naturedly, and the answering guffaws followed him all the way to the bar. As he paid the innkeep for the refilled wooden tankards already making their way back to their table, Nepeniel glanced back at the demon, seated only a few paces down from where he was standing. The demon was still focused on the small but heavy book in his hands, drink all but forgotten in front of him as his slitted eyes scanned the page. 

Nepeniel found himself captivated by the sight despite himself; it was rare to find someone who could lose themselves in a task so fully as to completely block out the rest of the world, and people who were able to had always fascinated him. More than that, actually - something about that single-minded determination, that utter devotion, that  _ passion  _ that ignited their hearts and minds, it ignited him as well; it made his blood boil and his neck flush and  _ he really should not be having these kinds of thoughts about a  _ demon _ of all beings, not at all. Fuck. _

It was just as well, what happened next - someone a few seats down spilled their drink, and cheap wine splattered across the counter. The demon raised his book quickly, apparently not quite as lost in the lecture as he had seemed, and Nepeniel caught a glimpse of the cover; the unassuming block letters of the title. 

He actually thought he felt his heart stop for a moment. Nepeniel forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another, and then he was marching over to that imbecile before he even knew what he was doing.

"Are you absolutely out of your mind," he hissed, as way of greeting.

The demon looked up, unperturbed. "Beg pardon?"

Nepeniel growled, torn between shouting him into the ground and avoiding the other patrons' attention at all costs. "Reading a Lutheran Bible in the middle of Habsburg territory, surrounded by devoutly catholic soldiers?", he whispered as angrily as he dared. "That's not picking a fight, that's picking a  _ slaughter! _ Are you  _ trying _ to get yourself discorporated?"

The demon blinked, actually looking stumped for a second, before he let out a gravelly bark of laughter. "You sure you should be worrying about me? I heard upstairs doesn't look kindly upon demon sympathizers."

"I'm not a demon sympathizer," Nepeniel snapped, "I just - wait. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Deflecting my curiosity with provocations. Any other demon would've made sure to first defend how powerful and glorious and utterly unable to be discorporated they are, but you just deflected. Do you -", he hesitated, unsure if he even dared think the question, much less speak it aloud, "do you  _ actually- _ ?"

"Bullshit," the demon rumbled; voice quiet, but so sharp with warning Nepeniel nearly flinched. "Not everyone who has power likes to shove it into people's faces. I just wanted to cause a bit of a scuffle. Besides, I've been meaning to read this for a while. I'm interested to see how accurate the translations are."

Nepeniel could tell the demon wasn't being entirely truthful, but he let it go - and not (just) because he was so intimidating. While discorporation wasn't anything like death for a celestial being, it still was painful and messy, so whatever the demon was looking to avoid must be infinitely more so, if he was even considering abandoning his mortal form. And while Nepeniel had to admit he was rather curious as to what could even be that awful to a scion of hell, the demon would hardly tell  _ him _ \- an adversary, and a stranger to boot.

"Accurate compared to what?", Nepeniel asked instead, glancing down at the innocent-looking book. "Latin, Greek, or the original Hebrew?"

Something in the demon's eyes sparkled as he grabbed his abandoned drink and smiled. "Yes."

Nepeniel couldn't help an amused snort escaping him. "A demon with an education? That's rare."

The demon glanced down at the counter. "Just as rare as an angel with calloused hands. Is that for appearances or have you actually done manual labor?"

Nepeniel couldn't even fault the demon for doubting him, though he gave it a half-hearted attempt; both of them knew that angels didn't like getting their hands dirty. (Metaphorically and literally.) "I'm the warden of honest living and hard work, and guard the fourth hour of the morning. Each of the many scars on my hands is a memory of the places I've worked, from cramped workshops in nameless farming towns to the great Pyramids of Gizeh."

The demon raised an eyebrow. "You remember all of them?"

Nepeniel shrugged. "Well, there are always a few nicks and scratches that I never even felt, but most of them, yes, I recall."

"Huh. What's that one, then?", the demon asked, pointing at one at random. Nepeniel looked down at the small distorted circle located on his left pointer's highest knuckle. "Was helping out a carpenter in 1043 BC and slipped with the plane. She told me I was lucky I hadn't taken off a finger."

"Would you have miracled it back?"

Nepeniel paused, caught off guard by the question. Any other celestial being would've just assumed that he would - angels didn't condone imperfection, and didn't make exceptions for their corporations, even at the cost of a small miracle. That this demon would, without even a hint of judgement, just ask Nepeniel his  _ opinion… _

It suggested that he knew that neither angels nor demons were as black and white as they pretended to be. That they were  _ people _ , before agents of creation or destruction.

Nepeniel had never met a celestial being before who would admit to being a  _ person _ , first and foremost.

"I've… I've never thought about that. Hm. I don't think I would have, though. I don't keep these scratches around just for the stories, I like that they make me feel-"

_ -alive, just like one of the humans, _ he wanted to say. But he didn't. That was not something you mentioned to what was still basically a stranger, even if said stranger didn't seem to give a fuck about the rules either. 

"-well. Wiser than before."

"Can't be that wise if you still have so many others," the demon rumbled, but Nepeniel could tell by now that it was just meant as friendly teasing. "What's that one from?"

A pale, crescent-shaped line across his right thumb this time. "Oh, that was 1174. Queen consort Sofia of Minsk wanted to rekindle her husband's interest in her, so she commissioned a gown with metal threads woven in. I helped the poor tailors come up with something halfways feasible, but those threads could cut you something wicked if you weren't careful. Not sure what King Valdemar 1 of Denmark was even supposed to find alluring about it. Still, she paid her dues, and we were well-fed that winter."

When he looked up, Nepeniel found the demon staring at him, something almost like a fond smile stealing across his lips before a more detached smirk could replace it. "Honest living indeed. What's that one, then?"

"No. Your turn," Nepeniel found himself saying, surprising both of them. "What does that tattoo mean?"

The demon stiffened when the line of Nepeniel's finger led him to the snake on his arm. "'S private," he grunted, which Nepeniel supposed was better than 'none of your business', but still disappointing. "Well that's not fair, I already gave you two. Hell does know about equivalent exchange, right?"

The demon rolled his eyes. "Tough luck. This one's non-negotiable." 

"At least tell me where and when you got them done, then," Nepeniel suggested. "Assuming they're not all done by the same person." The demon wavered for a second, then sighed. "Fine. That one was Egypt, around 2500 BC. Some nomads camped on the banks of the Nile were willing to trade it for a scroll of prayers I was carrying. Got the scroll back around 200 years later, so it practically cost me nothing."

Nepeniel snorted. "Cheapskate. And that one?"

His pointing at the demon's clavicle earned him a  _ look _ . "I have at least three on my neck. Be more specific."

"The - you know, the abstract geometrical… right, that's all of them -"

Without thinking about what he was doing, Nepeniel leaned forwards and touched his fingers to the faded blue lines encircling the demon's neck. When he realized what he'd just done (about half a second later) he froze, the knowledge that he'd just crossed a line the banter hadn't hanging heavy between them. Talk might still qualify as thwarting if one played their cards right. Friendly touches… that was  _ fraternizing _ . 

But then the demon  _ laughed _ . "Cheeky bastard, aren't you. Got that one in Mesopotamia, 3200 BC or so. The artist charged me twice their usual rate for cursing in front of their kid. They  _ were _ really good, though, I got several others by them."

Nepeniel found his voice again. "Oh? Where are those, then?"

The demon winked. "Not in places I tend to present to the public."

Nepeniel couldn't help the flush stealing across his face, but he could at least try to play it off. "Disgusting. Should've expected that from a demon… This one, though?"

And so they continued, growing increasingly relaxed, amused, and as neither of them stopped ordering wine,  _ drunk _ , as the evening wore on. Nepeniel couldn't remember having this much fun in centuries. In fact, talking to this demon was unlike any conversation he'd ever had with  _ anyone _ \- unlike in conversations with humans, he could be honest about what he was, but unlike in conversation with other angels, he could also open up about  _ who _ he was. Not completely, but then, neither did the demon. It was like a game, a give-and-take of small, shiny fragments of history, each puzzling together the other's pieces to glimpse at the raw  _ personhood _ beneath. 

Most of the patrons had left when the dream finally shattered. They'd been switching faster and faster, trading shorter stories and longer touches in a way that some part of Nepeniel recognized as dangerous, but he found so easy to ignore with the buzz of alcohol and good company clouding his judgement. "Cute, innit?", the demon was rumbling, glancing at the scarab on his elbow that Nepeniel had just run his fingers across. "Ironically not from Egypt. China, but what, around 400 years ago, 500 maybe? Shit."

Nepeniel laughed, whether at or with the demon he wasn't sure - then the demon reached for his hands again. "Hey, and this one? This… this-"

It couldn't have looked nearly as obscene as it felt, or the few other customers that were left would have let them know, but oh.  _ Oh _ . The way the demon spread the fingers of Nepeniels right hand apart and slid his rough digits into the cleft between Nepeniel's middle and pointer finger. How he touched so gently upon that small raised mark that marred the stretch of skin connecting the fingers -

Nepeniel drew his hand back as if he'd been burnt, inhaling sharply as his thighs clenched involuntarily. In all the 4000 years or so he'd been on this earth, no gesture had ever simultaneously felt so arousing yet so genuinely terrifying.

The demon, in turn, looked equally as spooked. The light, teasing atmosphere that had been building all evening had turned into something charged, almost  _ burning _ between them…

…and all angels have a very distinct aversion to fire. 

Nepeniel's first instinct was to bolt - while his companion was the best company he'd had in years, and his strong thighs did  _ things _ to Nepeniel's sanity,  _ he was a demon.  _ Nothing good could come of this kind of entanglement, even if it was just for one night. But something made him hesitate, and reconsider running away - the expression on the demon's face, which took Nepeniel and his talent for reading people just a heartbeat to decipher.

The demon was even more scared than he was. Which made absolutely no sense, no matter what angle one approached it from. Demons were  _ supposed _ to lust, to tempt, to lead from the path of righteousness. Tempting an angel into sins of the flesh should be a point of  _ pride _ for the demon, something to relish, to brag about - or if he was of the hateful sort, it should at least be a cause of disgust or anger.

He had no reason for concern the way Nepeniel had. The person at the bottom of the canyon would never fear falling like the person teetering at the edge of it. 

So if it wasn't punishment the demon feared, what- 

"You should leave," the demon said, almost gently. He sounded broken, almost, voice a quiet rasp - the sound of rejection, Nepeniel realized, though he didn't presume to know the cause, and wasn't going to pry. Honestly, he didn't  _ want _ to. He was good at easing small burdens, sure, but this - this was  _ old _ pain, a wound reopened again and again until the surrounding scar tissue stopped trying to reconnect. Nepeniel wasn't qualified for that.

But maybe the small burden thing wasn't such a bad start. 

"I think you meant to say,  _ we _ should leave," Nepeniel corrected the demon, letting just a hint of his own arousal color his voice, and hoping he didn't sound as anxious as he felt. 

The demon's eyebrows drew together so fast Nepeniel's eyes could barely follow. "You cannot possibly mean that. Your head office-"

"-has barely paid attention to earthly matters since at least 500 A.D." Nepeniel said, not sure if he was trying to convince the demon or himself -  _ no _ . No, he knew it was true. He'd known for a long time, even if he usually didn't acknowledge it. Heaven didn't care about the small happenings on earth, they only cared about their agenda. And judging from the careful hints and meaningful pauses the demon had inserted into their previous conversation whenever skitting around matters of business, hell was exactly the same. This was going to be  _ fine _ . "No one will ever know."

The demon stared at him in disbelief. "It's too dangerous. You'll get hurt," he reiterated.

Nepeniel huffed a small, nervous laugh. "I thought you were trying to dissuade me, not tempt me further."

The demon's eyes practically grew round at that, slit pupils expanding almost like a cat's. "Oh go- sa-  _ fuck _ . Really?"

Nepeniel shrugged, and only partially to disguise how shaky he was. "Come and find out." He tossed the barkeep a few coins to cover his tab, and headed upstairs to where he knew there were unoccupied rooms you could rent for a night or two, and there was an unspoken agreement to ignore suspicious sounds. Heaven and Hell might not be paying attention, but he knew how important it could be to ensure that humans didn't either. 

He turned to the first door on the right, and, as he expected the room to be unoccupied, it was - but he still hesitated on the threshold, all his doubts resurging with a vengeance. What if he'd misinterpreted the demon's reactions, and the demon wasn't actually interested? Or if just his concern had been faked, and he simply wanted to incriminate Nepeniel? Or-

A warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck made him shiver, and he thought distantly that the demon must be incredibly lightfooted to steal up the stairs so quietly. "Are you sure about this?"

Nepeniel steeled himself and stepped forwards, turning as he did so he could look the demon in the eyes as he followed Nepeniel inside the small sanctuary, and closed the door behind them.

"Yes. Now come here."

The statement had been thoughtless - Nepeniel was used to hesitant, timid lovers, so over time, he'd taken to a rather commanding tone in the bedroom. But to his utter surprise, the demon didn't just comply, he  _ obeyed.  _ Not eagerly, perhaps, but without hesitation, almost as if compelled - almost submissive, Nepeniel thought, and didn't  _ that _ just flare up the heat in his gut. So the demon stepped close, icy blue eyes almost  _ burning _ with a nameless emotion - not quite lust, and not quite desperation, but it nevertheless had Nepeniels blood thrumming with anticipation.

Nepeniel took the demon's left hand, and guided it gently to the side of his own face. The demon didn't even resist in the slightest, just brushed his thumb across Nepeniel's jaw, and  _ oh _ , he'd missed this as well. Not just the sex, but the  _ tenderness _ , the intimacy of giving and receiving pleasure, the  _ trust _ \- Nepeniel had tried many narcotics in his millenia on earth, but nothing could ever get him as high as the trust that others bestowed upon him.

Nepeniel pressed his lips to the demon's - a light, chaste kiss followed by more lingering ones. The demon's mouth was soft and plump, smooth velvet against Nepeniel's eternally chapped lips, but the demon didn't seem to mind the scratch as he raised his hands to frame the sides of Nepeniel's face. The angel in turn raised his hands to gently untangle the demon's braid and let his eyes slip closed, drowning himself in the soft touches.

The small part of Nepeniel not dizzy with desire marveled at the unhurriedness of the whole affair - he'd not just expected the demon to try a faster pace, but also himself, restless spirit that he was. He had to admit, though, that this definitely outdid any expectations he'd harboured, and his last doubts faded into pleasure as he pressed his body flush against the demon's.

At the sudden contact, the demon groaned against his mouth, a quiet but heavy rumble like boots on gravel that Nepeniel simply  _ had _ to taste -

-and  _ there _ was that burning heat, that desperation they'd both been hiding under their skins. Suddenly there was movement, clothes were being shed and skin was being explored and the  _ flavor _ of him - a faint hint of the cheap wine the tavern served, mixed with something darker, headier, that just about dragged Nepeniel under. He half pushed the demon onto the bed, half crawled after him, because the demon was just as eager as him to get into a horizontal position. Had one of them used a miracle? Nepeniel couldn't believe either of them was this fast at undressing, but they were both naked now, and he couldn't resist running his hands across the vast expanse of art painted on the demon's skin - one hand spiraling up to grab at his solid chest, the other moving down to-

"Oh," Nepeniel said breathlessly. "Interesting. Wouldn't have expected - well."

The soft lips of a vulva, bigger than his own and lighter in color, framed by surprisingly groomed-looking curls.

"S'more practical in a fight," the demon grunted, dragging Nepeniel down for another kiss. "Can't get kneed in the balls if y'don't have any."

"Fair point," Nepeniel gasped against his mouth, grinding uselessly against the bedsheets as he let his fingers dip lower until-

" _ Fuck _ ," the demon swore roughly, the end of the word turning into a choked-off moan as Nepeniel's fingers found his clit, and Go- Sa-  _ Someone,  _ what a beautiful sound that was. Keeping his thumb circling the small nub, and his index and middle fingers massaging the demon's slick inner lips, Nepeniel started trailing none-too-gentle kisses down the demon's neck, dragging pleased noises from his reddened mouth. 

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous," Nepeniel muttered, teeth grazing against one nipple as his hand played with the other - the hand not currently dipping a cautious finger into the demon's folds, that was. "I could just come from watching you like this."

The demon's hand suddenly brushing across his own wetness startled Nepeniel, to the point where the rhythm of his hands nearly stuttered out. "Luckily, you won't have to," the demon rumbled, fingers curling up and-

"Ah- no,  _ don't _ \- um." The demon immediately drew his hand back, looking startled by the urgency in Nepeniel's voice, the discomfort on his face. "I'm… I don't, exactly.  _ Like _ being penetrated."

"Oh," the demon said simply, unevenly, as if he'd never even thought about that. And maybe he hadn't - Nepeniel knew it was absurd, choosing an effort  _ designed _ for inserting things, and then refusing to insert them. But he liked this effort for other reasons - practicality in unforeseen situations, like the demon had accurately summarized, more sensitivity and less clean-up in sexual situations…

And while in some cultures, a traditionally male appearance coupled with traditionally female genitalia could cause discomfort or even offense, he'd found he liked the duality it created on his body, in a way he didn't want to examine too closely and instead just accepted. (Angels were genderless, they had to be. Being anything else, even if it wasn't binary, was absurd. Wasn't it?)

"Ah, maybe-?" The demon grabbed onto Nepeniel's hips and raised them as if they weighed nothing (and didn't  _ that _ just steal Nepeniel's breath away), to re-seat him on the demon's thick thigh. "Like this?"

"Oh. Oh,  _ yes _ ," Nepeniel breathed, and restarted the work of his fingers with added fervor. "Ah, you're brilliant, I -  _ oh _ -" 

Now  _ this _ was pleasure - riding the demon in  _ his _ way, grinding down on the clenched muscle beneath him while his calloused hands carried on their work, fingers curling inside the demon to incite another strangled whine, one more gravel moan, and then smothering those sounds with his hungry mouth -

"You're so - so good at this - I  _ nnnh, yes _ ,  _ oh, _ I want you to feel s-so good, you deserve -  _ annngh _ , you deserve it, you deserve  _ everything _ -"

Nepeniel knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help himself - he was an angel, he was practically made for giving praise, and so his lovemaking had always gone hand in hand with showering his lovers in softly gasped compliments. And the part of him he kept close to his heart, that housed all his unangelic thoughts… it knew he liked receiving praise as well, though those instances were few and far between. The demon seemed to like his mindless stammering anyway, if his mewls of pleasure were anything to go by. "You -  _ nnngh _ , you're doing so well, my  _ dear- _ "

Nepeniel didn't know if his fingers had caught the right spot or if it was something he'd said, but suddenly the demon's hands on his waist clenched so tightly as to dig painfully into Nepeniel's skin, and the demon came with a wordless shout.

Nepeniel slowed his own frenzied rutting to focus on guiding the demon through his pleasure, only pulling his fingers out when the demon grew twitchy from overstimulation. "Yes, just like that," Nepeniel said softly, running his hands through the demon's hair. "Fuck, and I thought you were hot  _ before _ ."

The demon huffed a soft laugh and pulled Nepeniel in for another kiss, wet and languid and filthy in a way that made Nepeniel's toes curl, but there was something in the edge of his laugh and the desperation of the kiss that made him uneasy. But then the demon suggested, "I've been told that I'm at my most attractive when I'm giving head," and any coherent thoughts Nepeniel might've had went right out the window. "You haven't come yet, right?"

Nepeniel shook his head and scooted backwards as the demon shifted onto his knees. "I - wait, please, let me…" 

Under the demon's curious gaze, Nepeniel drew a hand across his own crotch and pulled upwards, across his chest - and under his touch, his skin and flesh rose to meet the hand painting a small not-exactly-miracle across it. 

Nepeniel gave a soft sigh as she settled into the new changes - a small, solid pair of breasts on her heaving and flushed chest, and lower, a slender cock following the curve of her lower stomach, hard and already leaking. "I love it most when - when I'm like this."

The demon eyed her hungrily, surprise and approval mingling on his face. "'S perfect." Still kneeling on the mattress, he bent down to nose at the new addition, and whether by chance or on purpose gave Nepeniel an excellent view of his ass sticking up into the air. 

The first pull of his tongue along her shaft sent sparks of pleasure racing through her, and she couldn't help a soft whine as he laved at her head. "Fuck -  _ please- _ "

She didn't even have to finish her sentence; he was already taking her in his mouth, humming softly as he buried his nose in the dark curls at her base. With her still wound up from before, and the view just as excellent as he'd promised, it took barely three bobs of his head before she was spilling into his mouth, groaning obscenely as she curled around him in helpless ecstasy. She could feel the aftershocks of that orgasm reverberating down to her very bones, and her hands were still shaking when he sat up again, licking his lips as he swallowed. (Oh someone, he'd  _ swallowed _ …!)

"Ready for round two?"

Nepeniel swallowed. She wasn't used to handling people without a refractory period (apart from herself, of course). The demon, on the other hand, looked like he was barely getting started.

"I- yes. If you want."

The demon narrowed his eyes at her. She realized, then, that something in his demeanor had shifted ever since his orgasm - he seemed less soft, more confrontational. She had no idea what this meant for their next round, but it was a little bit worrying. "You angels have a very annoying habit of putting your desires on the back burner. Don't ask me what I want - what do  _ you _ want?"

Nepeniel stared at him for a long second, irritation fighting with stumped curiosity. What a loaded question. What  _ did _ she want?

_Well,_ Nepeniel told herself, _when in doubt consider the human approach: go big or go home._ Looking the demon in the eyes, she said bluntly, "I want you to ride my cock so hard that we break the bedstead."

Clearly, the demon hadn't expected her to be quite as direct as all that, as his slit-pupils grew round at her admission. "Thought you didn't like penetration," he rumbled, grinning despite his neck flushing all the way up to his pointy ears. (Interesting.)

"I don't like  _ being _ penetrated," Nepeniel corrected, scooting over to rest her back against the headboard. "It's okay when I'm not on the receiving end."

The smile melted off his face as quickly as butter on a hot stove.

"Oh, you still think you're  _ giving _ ?", he growled, crawling on top of her. Annoyed as she was by his aggressiveness, Nepeniel's breath still caught in her throat when he kneeled astride her, his strong thighs caging hers, and guided the tip of her leaking cock to just barely brush against his slickness. " _ I'll _ be the generous one this time."

When he sank down on her it was like a mountain shifting, crushing in its solidity, unstoppable and  _ heavy _ \- but no mountain could feel this hot. Or mold itself around her so tightly, or slide so excruciatingly slowly against her that her loud whine felt like it was being dragged forcibly from her lips. "You-  _ ah- _ "

He did not let her get a word in edgewise. Instead, he did exactly as she'd asked - he sped up the movement of his hips as quickly as he seemed able, and then rode her fast and hard, slamming down on her and lifting up again before she even had a chance to properly feel the weight bearing down on her -

_ Oh _ , but she  _ wanted _ to feel it, and chased the heaviness of him with her hips as she mirrored his movements. She was too overwhelmed to kiss him, so her breathy moans filled the silence unfiltered, mingling with his rough gasps and the slick sounds of sex - but somehow the room still felt empty, his heartbeat distant even though she was pressing his multicolored chest against her breasts so tightly that her fingers were digging into his back. "You're b-burning up," she stammered hazily, the headboard digging uncomfortably into her shoulders. "Burn for  _ mmh _ , for me, sweetheart-"

" _ Angel- _ "

It took her a second, but when the realisation finally filtered through her lust-addled mind, she moved fast enough to surprise both of them - grabbing his legs and pulling them towards her, and pushing her chest into his until they _flipped,_ the demons shoulders slamming into the mattress as she surged over him. He stared up at her in shock, long hair trailing over the foot of the bed as she struggled to find the right words. "I was made to be kind," she said tightly, anger pulsing through her taut muscles, "but not _stupid_. I know when I'm not being spoken to, and I _don't care for it,_ not when I'm balls-deep inside you. Whoever this person is that you nicknamed so ironically, they're not here now. I am, and I _will not be ignored_."

The demon swallowed, reaching up to cup her face gently. "Make me forget, then. Everything else, but this."

Nepeniel leaned down and kissed him harshly. Her hands slid up to his waist, pinning him in place as she fucked him roughly, drawing high-pitched keens from him that sounded so different from  _ any _ sound he'd made that evening. But he was focused on her again, eyes trained on her hungrily despite his evident struggle to keep them open against the flood of sensations, legs wrapping around her hips to pull her in deeper, tighter, chasing that connection -

**_"AZMODEUS."_ **

Both of them froze. Nepeniel didn't dare turn her head, but she was acutely aware of the fireplace that had definitely not been on the otherwise empty wall until just now. The dancing flames jumping in the grate cast dancing shadows across their entwined bodies on the bed, radiating such intense heat she could feel it all the way across the room. 

"Yes," the demon under her finally answered, voice cold, staring at a place somewhere over her shoulder as to avoid Nepeniels terrified stare. _Azmodeus_. This was Azmodeus, the Great Cat, the Tempter of Eden, _and she'd been_ _pounding him into the mattress._

And he'd  _ let _ her.

_**"YOUR INFLUENCE IS REQUIRED IN BOHEMIA. YOU ARE TO GIVE THE COUNT OF BUQUOI A LITTLE PUSH IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. MAKE SURE HE WINS THE NEXT BATTLE. DO YOU COMPLY?"** _

She should've known. His slit-pupils seemed so obviously feline now, and his tongue, flat and coarser than any human's. Sweat pooled in the small of her back. His eyes still wouldn't meet hers.

"Why shouldn't I," he said lightly, nothing in his voice betraying how soft and desperate it had sounded just a few seconds ago. "Not hard for a demon of my accomplishments. I'll send you the usual forms when I'm done." 

_**"AS YOU SAY. GOOD EVENING."** _

The fireplace was gone, as if it had never been, and in a way, it hadn't. Nepeniel rolled off of the demon, feeling numb. 

"He was right," the demon - Azmodeus, said softly to himself. "He was right all along. We're not safe, we'll never be. Not with _them_ watching us."

They dressed in silence; they both knew that their short stint was over, or had to be, anyway. Still, Nepeniel couldn't keep their eyes off the demon, the way his biceps flexed as he carefully relaced his breeches. The snake tattoo danced across his arm, and Nepeniel remembered the pained way he'd said "angel". 

They should've known, from the easy way the demon had talked to them, that they weren't the first heavenly servant the demon had shared a cup with.

The arch-rivalry of Azmodeus and Doeley had been one of the few things they liked to talk to their fellow angels about, but Nepeniel would be keeping this piece of gossip to themselves until the world crumbled and hellfire consumed them for good. (Legendary enemies, indeed. Maybe they could drop a few rumors in select ears that Azmodeus had started a war in an attempt to destroy his nemesis. Might get both of the ancient foes a commendation. Might just buy them some time, anyway.)

"I'm sorry," the demon suddenly said. He was fully dressed, now, but he kept his hair open, still mussed despite his awkward attempt at finger-combing it. "I shouldn't have -"

"Nepeniel."

He stared at them, not understanding. "That's my name," they clarified. "So we're even. Though I would never tell yours, or speak of this." 

Azmodeus relaxed just marginally, and Nepeniel caught a glance of the vulnerability they'd seen before. "Likewise."

The demon hesitated at the door, then quickly crossed the floor to where Nepeniel was sitting on the bed, and pressed a brief kiss to their lips. "Stay safe."

Nepeniel stayed silent as they watched him leave, because it wasn't their place to tell Azmodeus, "Wait for him. For someone like you, I'm sure he'll come around."

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me some comments I live off that shit


End file.
